Resistance
by Lara-Van
Summary: Claire Bennet is the daughter of Noah and Sandra Bennet, the two deadliest Special-hunters in the western hemisphere. Peter Petrelli is a hospice nurse who's hiding an incredible power. When they join forces, can they save the world? And maybe find love?
1. Prologue

Author's Note And Disclaimer: Alright, once again, I'm starting a new fic when I really shouldn't. But this idea ate my brain and I just can't concentrate on anything else until I get this posted. On the general knowledge of Specials in this, people are aware that they exist, but mostly in a peripheral, we-try-not-to-think-about-it kind of way. Very X-Men, let's put it that way. This AU is borrowed with permission from Daria234, and the initial concept came from her oneshot, Rescue Worker. I don't own anything whatsoever.

* * *

_New Jersey_

_The Company Academy_

The alarm went off at 5:00 a.m., precisely as it did every morning. She opened her eyes to the sight of gray predawn light filtering through the window, precisely as she did every morning. But unlike every other morning, Claire Bennet didn't immediately get out of bed and dive headfirst into her day.

No, today, she wanted to lay in bed just a few minutes more, trying to recapture the dream she had just awoken from. She wasn't quite sure what it had been about, but she was quite sure that it had been wonderful. For a moment, Claire was able to drag back a flash of the dream, just an instant in time, in which a pair of dark eyes met hers. It made no sense to her out of context though, and with a sigh, she sat up.

Her room, like every other one at the Academy, was Spartan in its furnishings. The floor was concrete, although Claire had brought in several brightly-colored braided rugs to keep her feet warm. The walls were cinderblock, painted a cheerless, hospital blue. In her second year at the Academy, Claire had grown frustrated with staring at the depressing color, and brought in a can of sunshine yellow paint to color the walls with. But two days later, when she returned to her room in the evening, the walls were blue again. She knew better than to try again.

Instead, she bought a painting to hang on the walls in an attempt to brighten up the room. She had a print of Anita Austwick's "Going Home." Claire loved Austwick's style, full of bright colors and blurred lines. It reminded her of her childhood, growing up under the hot Texas sun, despite the vastly different subject matter.

But although an Agent's salary was high, she had yet to graduate from the Academy and Claire's spending money was limited. That print was the only one she could afford, and so she used a large rectangular mirror hung on the wall opposite the window to make the room look more open and light.

It was that mirror she approached now, examining her reflection carefully. Today was not a normal day at the Academy, and Claire wanted to be certain she looked her best. She pulled on a pair of tight grey-washed jeans and a blue tank top. Although the Academy encouraged looking professional, doing the work they did was usually difficult dressed in anything more formal than Claire's current attire. Forget the heels, she was wearing her favorite white tennis shoes today. She swiped a bit of mascara across her lashes and tugged a comb through her long, loose blonde curls which she then tied up in a high ponytail. A little cherry lipgloss, and she decided she looked decent.

Upon exiting her room, she found Zach Angrom waiting for her. "Happy Birthday, Texas," he said, pulling her against him and kissing her warmly.

Claire gave her three seconds to enjoy the kiss, then pushed him away. "Not the time," she said. "But thanks."

Her relationship with Zach was hard to define. They had been inseparable friends since the Academy first pulled them from regular school to begin the advanced training necessary to become an Agent at age fifteen. For three years, that had been all they were to each other. Then, last year over the holidays, something had changed between them. She supposed that the only way to describe their relationship was "friends with benefits." There was an emotional attachment, sure, but Claire was very certain that she didn't love him. She thought maybe he loved her, or at least thought he did, and she knew it was wrong to lead him along like this, but it was hard not to. Everyone else at the Academy had found someone within the school. Claire's own parents had met here. But for Claire, there had never been that special someone who caught her eye. And so she carried on with Zach, hoping that it would be enough to fill the lonely place inside her.

His bright blue eyes were sad as she broke the contact. To make up for it, she took his hand and they walked down to the training yard together.

"You up for some sparring before breakfast?" she asked as they arrived at the grassy square in the center of the Academy where a handful of other students had already arrived. Not many, though- Claire was a habitual early riser, and Zach had changed his habits to fit her routine.

Zach grinned. "You know I am, Texas. And don't think I'm gonna go easy on you just because you're turning nineteen today."

"I wouldn't expect you to," Claire said. "The one day I take a break is the day I sign my own death warrant."

He smirked. "If I didn't know you so well, I'd think you were mocking your training. You of all people can afford to knock off once in awhile. Not like you can get hurt."

Claire looked away, staring at the few young men and women who were already in the yard. "But that doesn't mean I can't fail. And failure is _not_ acceptable."

It was a lesson her father had drilled into her from a very early age. She was Company legacy, destined from the moment of her birth to rise to the top ranks of the Agents. She couldn't have avoided it, not with parents like Noah and Sandra Bennet. The legendary husband-wife team were two of the deadliest Agents in the western hemisphere. Following traditional Company policy of "one of us, one of them," the powerless Noah worked with his illusionist wife. The duo had made Company history early in their stellar career and only climbed higher as time went on. They weren't as active as they used to be, mostly reserved for special missions. They had instead been asked to become instructors at the Academy. Sandra taught a course in covert operations, and Noah was a firearms instructor.

It wasn't really fair, she thought. She had never gotten a chance to know 'normal' growing up. Claire didn't really miss what she'd never had, but sometimes she wondered what life would have been like if she'd been able to go to a normal high school. Would she have been athletic? A cheerleader, maybe? She'd have liked that.

But daydreams did her no good, as she remembered when a fist connected hard with her jaw. Acting on instinct, she dropped to a crouch and swept Zach's unsuspecting legs out from under him.

With an athletic twist, he was back on his feet, but Claire was too fast for him. In seconds, she'd gotten behind him and delivered a sharp kick to his kidney. He bent over, clutching his side. She took advantage of his distraction and brought her knee up from beneath to smash it into his nose. Then, before he could recover, she rammed her elbow down on the base of his neck. He dropped to his knees. She counted silently to five in her head, then extended her hand to help him up.

"Damn, Texas," he said, wiping a trickle of blood from his nostril. "Couldn't have gone easy on _me_, could you?"

She laughed. "Oh you big baby," she said. "You know I didn't even hit you half as hard as I could have. Besides, you caught me off-guard. You had the advantage from the start and you didn't take it. You were the one going easy on me. Seems you can't keep your word as well as you think."

He ran a hand through his sandy hair. "Guess not. I'd be dead if you had. Anybody ever told you you're a force of nature?"

Claire shrugged. "I've been doing this longer than you have. My parents took my training into their own hands when I was little, remember? I know what's what. You'll catch up, don't worry."

Zach gave her a playful glare. "Tell you what, until that day arrives, how 'bout we do some armed combat practice? There, at least, I can kick your ass."

"You're on. What's your preference?"

He pretended to think about it, although Claire already knew what he was going to say. "Staffs," he answered finally. She had expected as much. The heavy wooden staffs the Academy issued for weapons practice were taller than she was and difficult for her to wield. Zach liked to win. This was going to be painful.

* * *

Two hours later, both of them were drenched in sweat and covered in dust. Claire had a large bruise on her shoulder where she had dislocated it in a badly-managed fall, but it was disappearing swiftly. She had won two bouts, and Zach six, and it was making him insufferable. "You could at least _act_ less smug," she said irritably.

"And where's the fun in that?" he said. "You're too serious, Texas. You need to lighten up once in awhile."

She socked him on the arm. "Hey!" he exclaimed. "Some of us aren't invincible, you know!"

Reality warped a few feet in front of them and suddenly Sandra was standing in front of them, holding her prize Pomeranian, Mr. Muggles, tightly in one arm.. "Hi Mom," Claire said brightly.

Sandra favored her with a smile. "Hello, Claire. Hello Zachary. How are you?"

"Good," he said. "Claire keeps punching me, though."

Claire punched him again for good measure. "Ow," he muttered, rubbing the spot.

"Uh, did you want anything in particular?" Claire asked.

Sandra nodded. "Professor Bishop wants to see you in his office. Your father's waiting there."

She smiled. "Thanks, Mom." Reality shifted again, and suddenly Sandra was a mousy freshman who hurried off in the opposite direction. Claire turned to Zach. "Catch you at breakfast, 'kay?" she said. Then she stood up on tiptoe and kissed him softly on the lips.

When Claire knocked on the oaken door with the name 'Bishop' stenciled on the placard, it swung open almost immediately. Behind the intimidating desk, Bob Bishop, acting head of the Company and the Academy's superintendent, sat perusing a thick stack of papers. Two deliberately uncomfortable leather chairs faced the desk, and one of them was occupied by her father, Noah Bennet.

"Hi Dad," she said, feeling self-conscious.

He smiled at her from behind his horn-rimmed glasses. "Hi, Claire-bear. How are you?"

Claire shrugged, smiling back at him. "Same as always. I've been sparring with Zach."

"So I see," Professor Bishop interrupted. "Please, Miss Bennet, sit down."

She sat.

"Miss Bennet, you are one of our top students here at the Academy. You are aware of this. You also have a highly valuable ability, which makes you an extremely valuable asset to the Company. Now, as I'm sure you know, it's not the Academy's usual practice to allow students to go on assignment before they've been granted Agent status. However, I've discussed it with your father, and we have a proposition we'd like to make to you..."

* * *

Just a note on Claire's character- It doesn't show as much in this chapter, though I did my best, but she's essentially Claire as we've seen her so far in season four. Only better trained, and a lot tougher.


	2. The Assignment

Author's Note and Disclaimer: As part of the AU stuff, the Petrellis were/are in no way involved in the Company or the Academy. For once. Their family history is still mostly the same other than things that would have been changed because of that. I still don't own anything. The original concept still belongs to Daria234.

* * *

_New Jersey_

_The Academy_

_"Miss Bennet, we have an assignment for you."_

Claire couldn't believe her ears, even with the words still ringing in the air. It was impossible. Nobody got assignments while still at the Academy- _nobody_! Well, that wasn't entirely true. Some of the top students would occasionally go on carefully chaperoned, Level One assignments with older Agents. And here they were, giving her the chance she'd been waiting her whole life for! She'd have been lying if she'd said her heart hadn't accelerated a little.

But she didn't show her ecstatic response. Instead she nodded, and waited.

Her patience was rewarded a few moments later when Noah said, "There's a group of four Specials tearing up Lower Manhattan. Thugs, mostly, but there's one who's got us worried. Benjamin Washington, more commonly known as Knox. He's a clever one, and he seems to be in charge, from what we can tell. Anders and Mitchum had him pinned down in L.A. a few months ago, but he gave them the slip and we didn't hear of him again until he turned up in New York last month."

"What's his ability?" she asked clinically.

It was Bishop who answered. "Sadism-induced super-strength," he said.

Claire narrowed her eyes, not understanding. It wasn't one she'd heard of before. "Um, can you explain what that means, sir?"

"He gets strong off other people's fear," Noah explained. "He's an extremely dangerous individual. Claire, if you don't want to accept the assignment, we can give it to somebody else."

"No, I'll take the assignment," she exclaimed, tripping over her tongue in her haste to assure them of her intent. "I've waited a long time for an opportunity like this!"

Suddenly, the study door burst open. "So have I!" a voice exclaimed from behind her. Claire twisted around in her chair and saw Elle, Bishop's daughter, standing in the doorway. Clearly she had been eavesdropping on the conversation.

Elle was somewhat infamous at the Academy. Notoriously sadistic and unstable, she had nearly flunked out of the Academy. Only her father's influence had kept her on the fast-track to becoming an Agent. "You said I could take Knox," she hissed in rage, blue sparks beginning to dance across her hands and forearms. "You promised, Daddy."

Bishop didn't look at his daughter, too intent on studying the files on the desk in front of him. "That was before you blew it with Gabriel Gray. You let him walk, Elle. You should have taken him in when you had the chance. We've been over this, Elle. You're benched until further notice."

Claire stared at the electric blonde in amazement. Everyone at the Academy had heard of Gabriel Gray, now known as Sylar. He was a power-hungry intuit currently rampaging across the continent, leaving a trail of bodies behind him. And everyone knew that the reason he was still free was on the shoulders of an Agent- but no one had known who. It had been a carefully kept secret. The fact that it was Elle, of all people, struck Claire as slightly hilarious. They should've known better to send an unstable Agent after an unstable subject.

The rumor had gone around that the Agent had been female, of course, and that there had been some kind of romantic attraction between she and Sylar. With the additional information she had just received, she wasn't surprised. Elle was a terrible flirt. Claire was sure _she'd_ do better. Everyone knew that you never got involved with the subject. Not for real, anyway.

"But..." Elle's eyes were full of unshed tears. "Daddy, you promised."

"No more argument," Bishop replied, still not looking at her. "Claire is being given this assignment."

The tears spilled over, and Elle whispered, "I hate you." It wasn't clear whether she was talking to Claire or to Bishop, but she fled before anyone could ask.

Claire turned back to face her father and the director. She knew all too well that it wasn't her place to comment on Elle's wild behavior. Not only was it rude, it would probably violate Company protocol. Your superiors were your superiors. You didn't get involved in their personal life, and you didn't offer advice on matters outside Company business. So instead of what she wanted to say, she asked, "When do you want me to start?"

_Peter's Apartment_

_Manhattan_

He had to be at work in an hour, but Peter Petrelli was unwilling to get out of bed just yet. He'd had a dream. He wasn't quite sure what it had been about, but it was sticking with him. All he could recall was a flash of light reflecting off something metallic and then a woman's voice, screaming something he couldn't quite make out.

It seemed like a pretty normal dream, except that the timbre of the dream felt... off. Like it was echoing from somewhere else. That happened sometimes. He would have ignored the dream if it hadn't had that feel to it. But he'd learned from experience that it was a bad idea to forget about the dreams. And so he lay in bed, staring at the water stain on the ceiling and trying to remember something, anything, to help explain whatever it was that was coming. But it seemed to be a useless endeavor, and finally he gave up.

Peter got out of bed and ran a hand through his hair. He had a bad feeling that it was going to be one of those days. He walked barefoot into the kitchen, rubbing the sleep from his eyes as he went. When he pulled open the refrigerator, he grimaced at what he saw- shelves completely empty aside from a jar of pickle relish and a carton from the Chinese take-out place around the corner. Then he couldn't help but laugh. God, was he a classic bachelor or what?

Foregoing breakfast, he settled on a cup of coffee. Rather than wait for his aged BrewMaster to churn out its usual offering of flavorless sludge, Peter elected to heat the water himself. He placed his hand under the bottom of the pot and allowed a small but fiercely hot flame to erupt in his palm. Within moments, the water had boiled.

Peter smiled to himself. That one, he had borrowed from Nathan's high school girlfriend, Meredith. It was one of his favorites.

It had been a strange day when he realized that he- he of all people- was one of the evolved humans. Special. Powerful. It had taken him a long time to understand his power. For a long time, he believed he could fly, like his brother. But after a few weeks of experimenting, he began to realize that it was more than that.

Actually, it had been Daphne who first showed him how his power really worked. He had been having dinner with her and her fiance, Matt Parkman, when he finally decided to confide to his two oldest friends the truth about himself. Daphne had been ecstatic, and immediately demanded that he show them. He could still picture that night very clearly as he thought about it.

_The city air had been clear of smog for once, and the stars were just barely visible through the glare of the streetlights. They had been in the business district. Peter had insisted, because he didn't particularly want to advertise his ability to the world the way some "enhanced" individuals did. The deserted streets of Midtown at night seemed like the perfect place. _

_He had intended to take a running start, better to launch into the air, but somehow, instead he was just running. Before he could understand what was happening, he had collided with a building two blocks away and gone sprawling. An instant later, Daphne and Matt appeared at his side. Peter was stunned. "You too?" he asked._

_"Yep," Daphne had said. "It started happening a few years ago, right around the time my cerebral palsy went away. You didn't say you were a speedster, too!"_

_"But I'm not! I wasn't-- I was trying to fly!"_

_She tapped her finger against her mouth thoughtfully. "That doesn't make any sense," she said slowly. Then her eyes lit up. "I bet I know what it is. Matt, do you think--?"_

_"Definitely," Matt said. "With the odds the way they are, there had to be at least one in the City. Never would have figured it would be Peter, though!"_

_Peter got to his feet. "What are you talking about?"_

_Daphne smirked. "I think you might be an empath!"_

_He stared. Anyone who didn't deny the existence of the evolved humans had heard of empaths. They were extremely rare, and tended to be extremely powerful. Some of the most powerful could contain up to six or seven borrowed powers at once. "But... but how could _I_ be...?"_

_Matt laughed at the expression of utter shock on Peter's face. "Pete, one of the most important traits of an empath is _empathy_, and you've got that in spades. It should've been obvious. Now c'mon, man. Take my power. Try to read my mind!"_

It had been a relief to be able to confide his secret to someone besides Nathan. But short on the heels of that revelation had come another one equally as shocking, one that he didn't confide to anyone. He wasn't just an empath. The most powerful empath on record had been Emilio Sergez, and the man had had an upper limit of eight powers that he could hold onto. The moment it occurred to him that he was juggling at least a dozen unique abilities had been the most surreal moments of Peter's life.

So no, Peter wasn't just an empath. He was quite possibly the most powerful person in history. It scared him a little bit, knowing how much power he had sitting quietly within him. And so he kept quiet, and didn't tell Nathan what he had discovered. He didn't tell Daphne and he didn't tell Matt. Every once in awhile, he would use his gifts as quietly as possible to help someone, but that was all. Sometimes he thought he should be doing more. With the things he could do, he _ought_ to be doing more. But he had no idea what to do or where to begin, and since the only ideas that sprang to mind involved tights and a cape and that was just too ridiculous to even consider.

His phone rang, startling him out of his reminiscing. He picked up. "Hello?"

"Peter?"

He smiled unconsciously. "Simone," he said. "Is everything alright? How's your dad?"

"He's fine, actually. He's awake today. First time he's been conscious in a week. I was wondering if you could come by a little earlier and see him," Simone replied.

"Oh. Oh sure, no problem. I'll be there in ten minutes," he said. They exchanged some brief pleasantries, then she ended the conversation.

Peter grinned despite himself as he pulled his coat on. Simone Deveaux was his patient's beautiful daughter. Although he knew it was inappropriate, he had to admit that he had a bit of a crush on her. She was smart and alluring and interesting. She made his daily life a great deal more interesting when she would waft into her father's room like a butterfly to alight a moment and engage him in conversation for a few minutes. But he didn't kid himself that there would ever be anything between them. It just wasn't going to happen.

He walked out the front door of his building and glanced around. As usual, the city streets were full of people. Not exactly ideal for a speedy departure. He'd have walk at normal speed until he got to the alleyway a few blocks down the street where he could slip out of sight and speed away.

As he entered the alley, he realized too late that he wasn't alone. Out of the shadows, a trio of men encircled him. "Hey guys," he said, raising his hands, "I'm not looking for trouble."

Then a fourth man stepped out from behind a Dumpster. His dark eyes glittered dangerously in the dim light that filtered down between the buildings. "Well well well," he said. "What've we got here?" He stepped between his companions to examine Peter closely. "That's a nice watch, Prettyboy. Expensive watch. Anybody who can afford a nice watch like that can afford to share, can't he?"

"I don't think so," Peter said. He could handle this, he told himself. It wasn't exactly how he'd imagined his commute to work going, but he could handle this. But telling himself that didn't do him any good. A thrill of fear ran through him.

The man stepped still closer, towering over him. "Yeah, I guess you don't. But, uh, I do." Quick as lightning, his dark-skinned hand shot out and seized Peter around the neck. Peter threw out his own hand and threw a fireball at the man, but his aim was wide, and an impossibly tight squeeze from the man holding his throat cut off his air supply and forced him to drop his hands.

"Hey boys, looks like we caught ourselves a little pyro!" he exlaimed. "Think we should invite him to join the team?"

Peter heard laughter. "Nah, Knox, he's just a small-timer. We've already got one flamethrower. We don't need another one," said shaven-headed man standing just behind Knox. He raised his hand and engulfed it in blue fire.

As Peter's heart accelerated in fear, Knox's dark eyes got a wild look in them. He released him, and for a moment, Peter thought he'd be able to escape. But then pain exploded in his stomach. He looked down; there was a bloody hole directly in the center of his gut, from which Knox's fists withdrew. He stared, unable to comprehend what he was seeing. The agony spread in waves across his entire body, and he dropped to his knees, staring at the red stain on his chest. The world whirled around him as his life ebbed away.

Before his vision went dark, Peter saw sunlight glinting off metal into his eyes. A blonde woman crashed into Knox, yelling something he couldn't understand. And then everything went black.

* * *

Alright, yeah, not my best, I know. I had a difficult time getting this out on paper. Well, hypothetical paper. But I tried. Review and make me feel slightly better about myself.


	3. Battle

Author's Note and Disclaimer: A reviewer if Claire was Noah and Sandra's bio-daughter. The answer is a definite yes. Claire isn't even SLIGHTLY a Petrelli this time. The forbidden angle of their love will still be there, but it's going to come from a different source. Anyway, I _still_ own nothing. Got that? No-thing. And the original concept _still_ belongs to Daria234.

* * *

_An Alleyway_

_Manhattan_

Claire had raised the pair of gleaming silver knives she carried high over head, so she wouldn't accidentally stab Knox on impact. "C'mon Elliott!" she yelled to her partner over her shoulder as she fell. And then she plowed into Knox with all the force a six-story leap could give her small frame. They landed hard on the blacktop, and Knox's head rebounded off the pavement with a dull thud. His eyes rolled up in his head and he passed out.

She rolled quickly off of him and leapt to her feet. Claire was surrounded by the rest of Knox's crew, three total, and Elliott hadn't followed her as he was supposed to have done. And she'd been too late to rescue to the pyrokinetic man the group had attacked.

The shaven-headed man stepped forward, his hands lighting up with blue flames once more. "Whatcha gonna do now girlie? Lost the element of surprise, haven't you?" he sneered.

Claire smirked. "Want a surprise, Flint?" she asked. And then she plunged one of her knives into his thigh. Flint howled, clutching his leg, and Claire whirled around to face the others, counting on him being too distracted by the dagger to be a problem. A swift kick to the head dispatched the diminutive man she recognized to be Knox's younger brother, Shane, sending him to the ground unconscious.

But by this time, Knox himself was back on his feet, and his long-time partner in crime, Jesse, was inhaling a deep breath in preparation to use his power. Claire brandished the knife threateningly in front of her, but it didn't do her much good. Jesse shrieked, and Claire found herself flying backwards into the cinderblock wall. She rebounded off the wall and landed next to the dead pyrokine. The pool of his blood soaked into her black jeans and smeared across the skin of her bare arms.

She leaped to her feet, repressing the urge to shudder; Claire was used to her own blood, but the blood of a stranger was a different matter. But there was no time to dwell on it, because suddenly Knox was on her, beating at her with superhuman strength that she knew her own disgust and slight fear must have given him.

"Who the hell do you think you are, huh?" he demanded, pinning her against the wall with one hand against her throat.

Claire straightened her spine and threw back her shoulders as much as she could against the building. "I'm Claire Bennet," she said defiantly, knowing the name would have an effect. The Bennets were a feared team of agents in the superpowered community, and their daughter was somewhat well-known as well, despite this being her first mission. Her career at the Academy had been watched closely by anyone who had access to do the watching.

And the name _did_ have as much of an impact as she'd expected. Knox's reaction, however, was not the one she'd been anticipating. Though his eyes widened in sudden fear, there was also smug defiance there. "Well then, looks like we've got ourselves a bargaining chip to keep the Company off our backs, don't we Jesse?" With his free hand, he signaled the sound manipulator to approach. "Care to do the honors?"

Jesse smirked, then opened his mouth in a multi-toned shriek that forced Claire to clap her hands over her ears in agony as the sound waves pinned her to the wall. She could feel blood leaking out between her hands, and knew that her organs were melting inside her as quickly as her ability could heal them. Any second now, the damage would surpass her ability to continue healing at the same rate, and she would collapse. One chance to act, then. She threw herself forward, pushing through the wall of sound.

At that exact moment, Elliott finally showed up, tasering Knox from behind. He couldn't heal, though, and although the primary force of the sound wasn't directed at him, Jesse now saw him as a target, and whirled to face him. Elliot flew backward, landing in a crumpled heap at the mouth of the alley. He curled in on himself, whimpering as Jesse continued to scream at him.

The moment the full force of the sound was off of her, Claire's body continued to heal normally, and her thoughts cleared. She dived across the remaining space between herself and Jesse, and slammed her elbow as hard as she could into the man's throat. With one final croak, Jesse dropped to the ground, clutching his neck.

Claire stood over him, pleased. She hadn't crushed his windpipe, but she had successfully landed a blow on the man's voice box, which would prevent him from using his power for at least a week.

Suddenly, she heard a noise behind her. For a moment, she thought that Flint or Shane had recovered. But it appeared that before tasering Knox, Elliott had taken care of the other two first. No, the source of the sound was the last one she'd expected.

The pyrokinetic man she'd assumed was dead was struggling to sit up, still with a fist-shaped hole straight through his stomach. To Claire's stunned amazement, the wound started to close, and he coughed as his lungs visibly reformed themselves inside him.

"How--?" she gasped, rushing over to him. "How did you do that? You're a pyro, you shouldn't be able to..." For a moment, she thought Elliott must have injected the man with some of the blood she'd donated for Company use last year.

But the man's next words silenced that suspicion. "'M not a pyro," he choked. "Got that power from my brother's... girlfriend..."

An empath, then? But that was so incredibly rare! The Company had documentation on every empath currently living. Claire had gone through the records, and she was sure that none of them lived in New York City, and none of the photographs she had seen even close to resembled this man...

At that moment, he looked up to meet her eyes, and Claire barely restrained a gasp. His eyes were dark brown, warm and friendly. They were the eyes she had seen in her dream the night before, that had stared at her so intently. "Who are you?" she whispered.

"My name's Peter Petrelli," he said.

She offered a hand to him and helped him to his feet. "I'm Claire Bennet," she said, already regretting the effect that this was going to have.

Peter's eyes widened visibly. "Um... I guess that explains why I'm not dead," he said.

Claire was grateful that he hadn't referenced the Company immediately. That was why students from the Academy rarely dated (or had any sort of relationship, for that matter) outside the training school's borders; there was an element of fear towards almost all the students, and Claire wasn't any ordinary student.

"Something like that," she said softly. "Guess you're lucky it was me who got assigned to take down Knox."

He nodded, still looking a little fearful. "So... don't you Company people usually work in pairs?" he asked. Claire finally remembered Elliott, and with a sigh, she hurried across the alley to check on him. He was conscious, but just barely, and he moaned as she checked his pulse. After a moment, his eyes gained clarity, and he moved his head to focus on her face.

"Lovely," she muttered. "You can never depend on people when you really need them. Alright now, let's get you up." She pulled his arm over her shoulder, grateful for the Company endurance training that had given her a great deal more strength than she appeared to possess.

She heard a sound, and glanced around to see Peter sprinting down the alley without looking back. More than likely he was afraid she would bag-and-tag him as Company agents were wont to do. And the sad part, Claire thought, was that he was probably right to be afraid. Not for the first time, she questioned her decision to go along with her parents wishes and become an agent. It was such a lonely life, and she hated the idea that everyone she met would fear her.

"Who's that?" Elliott slurred, gesturing vaguely at the fleeing man.

"That pyro guy Knox killed," she said, Elliott's words recalling her to the present. No, she wasn't an ordinary Academy student. She was the daughter of Noah and Sandra Bennet, and she'd better start acting like it. "I injected him with some of my blood. Seems he's not too grateful. I think we might have to have the Haitian pay a visit to him."

Claire wasn't sure why she was lying about how Peter had recovered, and what he really was. Probably just some lingering stupidity from having dreamed about his eyes the night before. Oh well, what could be the harm?

She knew the answer to that question, though. Empaths could be incredibly dangerous if they weren't careful with their immense gifts, and it was the job of the Company to keep a close watch on such powerful people. But somehow, she knew that Peter wasn't dangerous. It wasn't logical, but Company training had taught Claire that sometimes you had to trust your gut when protocol wouldn't serve your needs.

Elliott had sufficiently recovered from Jesse's assault to walk on his own, though he was still bleeding from his ears. Claire studied him. He was a tall, stocky man with a thick mop of curly dark hair and a fierce-looking beard. Claire hadn't associated with him very much, but she knew him as a generally harmless person until he got angry, at which point he went into a rage. "Thanks for taking out Knox," she said. Not that she couldn't have handled it on her own.

He nodded. "Sure. That's why we work in partners, you know. You'd be dead by now if it weren't for me."

"Or not," she pointed out. "That's not an easy thing to do to me."

His hazel eyes narrowed in irritation. "You might think you're something special, Missy, but let me set you straight right now. You may be getting special treatment because your daddy's Noah Bennet, but as far as I'm concerned, you're no different than any other student at the Academy. This is just a training mission, and I'm in charge. Diving right in earlier was stupid of you, and I'll be writing up a report on that the minute we get back to the Company. Got it?"

Claire met his eyes squarely and didn't reply. Elliott had a reputation for self-importance, but she hadn't really believed the rumors. Finally, she broke her silence to say, "Fine, whatever you say. Let's just get these guys prepped for transport and call in Rene, okay?"

Elliott pulled out a pair of sedation kits and handed one of them to her. "Jesse first," she instructed him. "He's still conscious."

He bristled. "Didn't I just say I'm in charge?" Claire raised an eyebrow, and he frowned at her. "Sedate Jesse. Then get to work fixing up Flint's leg; going to the knife just like that was sloppy. We avoid bloodshed if at all possible. If you hope to be an agent, you need to learn that."

There was no use arguing with him; the fact that she'd been right was enough justification for her. Claire injected Jesse with the powerful sedative that would keep him unconscious for at least five hours, handcuffed him for good measure, and moved on to bandaging Flint's wounded leg. As she did so, she vowed that she was under no circumstances going to work with Elliott when she finally made agent status. She'd rather leave the Company than put up with his fragile ego.


	4. Mindwiped

Author's Note and Disclaimer: Alright, thank you guys so much for the reviews. A lot of your questions about the AU are really insightful things that I never think of because... well, this is all in my head and I forget that you're not mind-readers. So someone asked about the exact role of the Company in this 'verse, and my explanation is as follows. The Company is sort of a group of highly-trained hunters (and occasional assassins) of Specials, some of whom are Specials themselves (following in the one of us, one of them pattern). Think of it as Special CIA. And the Academy is the Company's training school for new agents. If you guys have any more questions, feel free to ask away. The AU is confusing, I admit. I promise, though, that it's going to get more transparent as we go along. I just repeat: think X-Men and you'll have at least a vague idea. And I still own nothing, either in Heroes or _The Fountainhead_. Daria 234 still has the credit for the inspiration.

* * *

_The Academy_

_New Jersey_

"Miss Bennet, we understand that you did some admirable work for us in Manhattan," Bob Bishop said, without looking up from his paperwork. "Though your partner's report was less than glowing, we had one of our clairvoyants watching you, and in truth his report was somewhat slanted. Thank you for a fine job well-done."

"Thank you for the opportunity," Claire said politely. "It was... educational."

Bishop smiled faintly, still barely paying attention to her. "That was the idea. Is there anything else you'd like to add before I file this one away?"

Claire hesitated, wondering about the wisdom of her next action. If Company management had set a clairvoyant to watching her, then presumably they would already know at least some, if not all, of the details of her exchange with Peter Petrelli. Lying about it would be dangerous. But she'd looked him up in the Company database, and it turned out that although his brother was a known flyer, he had absolutely no file. Therefore, it was reasonable to assume that she could get away with protecting...

Protecting who, though? What exactly did she intend to accomplish by keeping her mouth shut? The fact was, she wasn't really sure. It wasn't herself, that was certain. Her actions (thus far, anyway) were beyond reproach. So was she protecting Peter? A man she had never met before this morning? A man, incidentally, who could be potentially extremely dangerous if left alone to deal with his vast array of abilities.

No, Claire decided. It wasn't Peter she was protecting. She wasn't protecting anyone. She was keeping a secret for the sake of having one. Claire had no secrets; everyone at the Company had known her every move from her earliest age, and most of the general public knew her face, her ability, and above all her family name. Was it really so wrong to just know one thing about one random Special out there that no one else did? Didn't she deserve something just for herself? Something private, that no one else could share?

Trying to put out of her head the thought that she was starting to sound startlingly like Dominique Francon, Claire said, "Well, there was a man... pyrokinetic. He was on Knox's bad side, but I think he's mostly harmless. We should probably send René to him, though. Just to be sure."

Bishop nodded absently. "Yes, yes. Of course. Most wise of you, Miss Bennet. Now, if that's all, I'll have to ask you to leave."

Claire rose to her feet and turned to leave. She was startled to bump into the Haitian man. "Oh!" she exclaimed. "You're already here. That's--" She didn't get another word out before René slipped a hand over her eyes and she dropped to the floor, unconscious...

_Peter's Apartment_

_Manhattan_

He pushed open the door and stepped inside his apartment without looking around, bone-weary and still reeling from the events of that morning. He had been dead, for god's sake! Dead, bled-out, no pulse, spirit-left-the-body! And then Claire Bennet- yes, _that_ Claire Bennet- had walked into his life and suddenly he was immortal.

It was an incredible thought, actually. Regens were rare- though not as rare as empaths, he knew- and he had never expected to meet one. And now that he had this power... what now? He didn't know much about regeneration, but he knew the rumors- regens supposedly lived incredibly long, maybe forever. It was a daunting thought. Peter didn't want to think about what forever entailed. Loneliness, losing the people who mattered most to him... It was scary, and he suddenly wished he knew how to shut these powers off, at least for a little while.

Although... did borrowed regeneration work the same as it would for the original bearer? Peter had discovered that occasionally his abilities weren't quite as potent in him as in the benefactor. Maybe that would be the case this time? He certainly hoped so. One thing Peter did not want was eternity.

So preoccupied was he by these thoughts that he did not notice the silent shadow of a man creeping up behind him to place a cool-fingered hand over his eyes...

* * *

_**One Year Later...**_

_The Academy_

_New Jersey_

"And now I give you the valedictorian of the graduating class of 2007, Claire Bennet!" Bob Bishop stepped away from the microphone and returned to his folding chair. They were seated on what was normally the training field, but today had been transformed into a neat little outdoor auditorium.

As Claire stepped onto the podium, she looked out across the small group of new Agents. To an outsider, it would closely resemble a traditional high school graduation, complete with caps and gowns. Until, that is, said outsider looked a little closer and realized that a few of the graduating students were already headed towards middle age. The Academy accepted students of any age. However, it was traditional that they hand-picked the best and brightest teens from around the world, and it was clear that Claire was the _creme de la creme_ of new Agents, though she was by far one of the youngest in the room.

She adjusted the microphone nervously. Agent material she might be; speech-maker she was not.

"Well, we did it," she said, smiling uncomfortably. "Today we achieved what we have trained for five years to become. Today we are Agents. Our time with the Company isn't going to be easy, we knew that from the start. But now we're finally coming into our own as the guardians of humanity, caretakers and protectors of the people. Now, I could go on for awhile about our sacred responsibility to the world, but I think we've had quite enough of those lectures. Let's get out of here and enjoy our last day before we start work!"

It wasn't particularly inspiring or particularly deep and it wasn't witty or charming, but as she descended from behind the lectern, Zach swept her up in a passionate kiss while a handful of caps soared into the air. "Great speech," he whispered against her lips.

"No it wasn't," she insisted.

He laughed, pulling back a little. "Okay, no, it probably wasn't. But I was a little too distracted by the gorgeous girl making it to really pay attention."

Once again, Claire didn't know how to respond to him. She didn't understand why it made her so uncomfortable when Zach complimented her. Everyone said he was perfect for her, so why couldn't she just let herself go and be happy with him? Why did she keep resisting the emotional intimacy he so obviously wanted, and that she knew he deserved? Maybe she was just a cold, heartless bitch. Trying to drive away the discomfort that was becoming increasingly obvious to her, she stood on tiptoe and pressed her lips to his again. A kiss was an appropriate thank-you to give your boyfriend of almost two years when he complimented you, right?

"What do you say we get out of here and go get some drinks to celebrate?" Zach asked when they broke apart.

Claire nodded and he slung an arm around her waist, guiding her away from the crowd. Just as they reached the colonnaded entrance to the main building of the Academy, a blonde even more petit than she stalked up to them. "Yo! Pom-pom!" Elle Bishop announced. "We got a job to do."

"But... I'm not supposed to be starting until tomorrow," Claire said, surprised.

Elle scowled at her. "How should I know how Daddy's mind works? Besides, you've been going on missions for like a year now anyway. So let's get going!"

Zach grabbed Claire's arm possessively. "What happened to 'One of us, one of them'?" he asked. "Last time I checked, you're _both_ 'one of them'. Shouldn't you be taking Khaled?"

The electrogenecist shrugged. "Yeah, but the guy we're going after is going to take two 'one of thems' to take him down. Just one Special isn't gonna cut it. And it's classified, so how 'bout you mind your own business?"

"Sorry," Claire said, giving Zach an apologetic smile. "Rain check on those drinks. I'll call you once I know where I'm headed, okay?" He looked dejected, but he gave her a half-hearted attempt at a smile. With one last peck on the lips, she hurried after Elle. "So... where exactly _are_ we headed?" she asked.

"New York," Elle said shortly.

"Who is it this time? Brandt? Makos? They've both been causing some ruckus lately."

Elle shook her head. "Nope. We're gonna land the big one. We're going after Sylar."

* * *

_Duh duh duh..._ Remember, reviews make me happy!


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